


home is when i'm alone with you

by delicatetobreak



Category: Tierra de lobos
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-25
Updated: 2012-03-25
Packaged: 2017-11-02 12:03:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/368784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delicatetobreak/pseuds/delicatetobreak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after Cristina rescues Isabel from the convent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	home is when i'm alone with you

By the time Isabel arrives at their meeting place behind the church, the adrenaline from the escape has worn off. She’s bone tired, weary from the day’s ride and the agony of her wounds. It takes almost all her energy just to stay on her horse, slumped against her saddle, and she’s about to fall off when a hand reaches out to gently steady her. 

“Be careful,” Cristina says, eyes full of worry and Isabel leans gratefully into the touch. 

“Did Lola say yes?” 

Christina smiles and nods “Come on, let’s go.”  
Isabel manages to stay upright for most of the trip but when they reach the bordello, she succumbs to her exhaustion. She vaguely remembers some of the girls coming out to help her off her horse, the hushed murmurs exchanged overheard, the feeling of relief that floods her body as she’s deposited onto a soft mattress. The rest is a blur though. When she wakes up, she’s still drained and battered but when she sees Cristina tending to her wounds, brow furrowed with concern, she can’t help but smile. 

Part of it has nothing to do with anything. Isabel never understood how Nieves and Almudena could get so giddy over boys but she gets it now, how her heart leaps whenever she sees Cristina, how her skin hums when she touches her. The other part of it though is pure relief. Those days in the convent when she thought Cristina was dead hurt more than the lashes, more than the barbs against her thigh and something inside her aches at how happy she is that she’s here, alive and well. Isabel reaches towards her, stills the hand that’s cautiously swabbing at her thigh and covers it with her own.

“Thank you,” she says and Cristina turns and smiles at her.

Isabel looks at her intently, “When my father told me that you were dead…”

“Shh,” Cristina murmurs, hushing her. The look of pain in her eyes makes Isabel’s heart clench and the words fall away at the press of Cristina’s finger against her lips. 

She watches as Cristina’s gaze drops to her body, to the angry, red marks and raw wounds on her skin, and Cristina shakes her head in disbelief. 

“What have those witches done to you?” she says. 

When Cristina bows her head, pushes aside the sheets to brush kisses against Isabel’s stomach, against the bruised skin of her knuckles, Isabel’s breath stutters at the tenderness of the gesture. She catches Cristina’s gaze with her own and pulls her down to kiss her, melts into the touch of her soft lips against her own. When she pulls away, Isabel can’t do anything but stare in wonderment. 

“Relax now,” Cristina whispers, “I will take care of you.” 

And like that, Isabel surrenders. She’s used to being the strong one, the stoic one in the family but Cristina’s promise feels like the sun and Isabel leans into her, let’s somebody hold her for a change. They fit perfectly against each other and Isabel can feel the tears start to prick her eyes as she burrows a little deeper into Cristina’s embrace. The weight of her body against hers is an indescribable comfort and when Cristina pulls away, she opens her mouth to protest. Cristina shakes her head, presses another silencing finger against her lips with the same gleam of mischief she first saw in Cristina’s eyes before she climbed out of her window.

“Rest,” Cristina insists and Isabel obeys, too tired to argue. She turns back to lie on the bed and closes her eyes, smiles when she feels the bed dip as Cristina slips in next to her and curls herself around her body. Cristina’s breath is warm against the back of her neck as she slides her arm around her waist, pulling her closer. 

Isabel has never felt safer.


End file.
